


No one is getting blown up today

by dancemagic



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Gen, Kidnapping, Military, Team as Family, Torture, Whump, everyone is hurt, secondary character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancemagic/pseuds/dancemagic
Summary: A high-stakes mission goes wrong, and the remaining members of Bravo team have to rescue their missing teammates.Basically, I just hurt everyone. No one is getting out of this one unscathed. These poor men. Why are we so mean to them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Any similarities to the show's current super secret mission in the mountains of Pakistan are completely coincidental. This isn't connected to that storyline in any way. I had already written the intro when this week's episode aired, and for the story to progress the way I planned it, they kind of need to be there. Since I have no idea where the show is going, I decided not to try to change it. 
> 
> Right now, this is mapped to be 7 chapters, but that could change.

It’s a high-risk op. But Jason knows how critical it is, and he knows his team is best equipped to handle it.

They’re entering a small, fairly isolated village in the foothills of a mountain range in northern Pakistan. 

On the surface, the mission itself is a pretty straight-forward snatch and grab – find and retrieve a highly-educated bomb maker known as the Inventor, whose network is responsible for four international attacks in as many months that have killed hundreds of people. 

Mandy needs him alive – there’s chatter that he’s already positioned loyalists in the United States and that they’re planning something significant.

They assume the house the HVT is holed up in will be booby trapped, if not the entire village. That definitely adds an extra layer of danger. The goal is to move slowly and carefully, but steadily. If they aren’t gone by daylight, they won’t be getting out.

That’s because they aren’t supposed to be here. The Pakistani government doesn’t know they are, which means they have to keep the lowest of low profiles. There’s no real-time ISR and no QRF. For all intents and purposes, they’re on their own. 

They parachuted in to maintain that low profile, and once they’ve secured the HVT, they’ll quickly hike a few clicks away to a remote area for exfil to India by stealth helicopter. 

Mandy’s intel has narrowed their focus down to three houses on the far edge of town - the farthest away from their entry point, which means they have to traverse the whole village to get there. All three buildings are supposed to be occupied by the target’s extended family, and the whole town is on the payroll, either voluntarily or involuntarily, so it’s imperative that they get in and out quietly. There’s no room for error. 

As they make their way through the dark, narrow, dirt-packed streets, everything is remarkably quiet. 

_Eerily_ quiet. 

Not that he wants to be shot at, but Jason’s instincts are telling him they should have encountered someone by now. Sure, it’s the middle of the night, but they haven’t come across a single guard. Or hell, even a dog. It just doesn’t feel right.

“Anyone else getting a bad feeling here?” Kairos says over the radio. 

Sonny groans, “Well now that you’ve acknowledged it out loud, we’re probably about to walk into a shit storm. Thanks a lot, man. Keep your hippy vibes to yourself.”

“Gee, Quinn. I didn’t peg you to be quite that superstitious,” Kairos shoots back. 

“Okay, enough,” Jason cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Stay alert.”

They brought the EOD specialist along because of the target’s chosen ‘profession,’ assuming Summer’s bomb disposal skills will likely be needed at some point. Hopefully that won’t be the case, but it’s good to have him along all the same, even if it does rankle Bravo 3.

If nothing else, it’s entertaining to watch him get under Sonny’s skin. Truth is, Jason likes the man. He’s cool under pressure, level-headed and smart. While they don’t need him all the time, he’s a good addition to the team when it’s appropriate. 

They continue on in silence until the three target buildings are in sight. All are dark and quiet, just like the rest of the village. 

“Yeah, really not liking the looks of this, Boss,” Brock shares. And from the normally reticent canine handler, that means something. 

Jason agrees. “Havoc, this is 1. We’ve reached the target buildings. All is quiet… _too_ quiet. Anything changed on your end?”

“Negative, Bravo 1. Nothing to indicate the Inventor isn’t where we think he should be.”

“Still no chance of getting eyes in the sky?” Jason asks hopefully. He would love to know how many heat signatures are in these buildings and where they are before they make their move. Not to mention whether there’s movement in the rest of the village.

“Can’t be done, Bravo 1,” Blackburn says with regret. “How do you want to proceed?”

Jason is torn. He knows he could scrap the op and no one would question him. Well, Mandy probably would. But there isn’t any real reason _to_ scrap it. The intel seems solid, and intuition is the only thing keeping them from moving forward. Gut feelings have saved their asses more times than he can count, but in this case, it just isn’t enough on its own to keep them from pushing on. The stakes are too high, and they aren’t going to have another chance.

“Copy Havoc, continuing mission.”

While Jason would love to keep the full team together to enter the buildings, time is not on their side. And they can’t risk the occupants communicating with each other if they only take one house at a time. He has no choice but to split them up for a simultaneous, coordinated assault.

Jason sends Ray, Brock and Cerberus to the building on the right, while Clay, Trent and Kairos take the middle. He and Sonny take the left. 

“ _Carefully_ , guys,” he emphasizes to his team as they separate. “I’m serious. If anything looks at all suspicious, you stop and call it in. No one is getting blown up today.”

The front door is unlocked when Jason and Sonny approach what they’ve designated house one. Probably not unusual in a village like this, but considering who potentially lives here, it’s pretty unsettling. They continue inside, spend the next few minutes doing a careful sweep of the four rooms and find…nothing and no one. 

“Bravo 1, this is Bravo 6,” Clay’s voice comes over their comms. “House two is clear. No one is here.”

“Same here,” Jason replies. “Ray? Brock?”

“Same, Boss,” confirms Ray. “What the hell?” 

“No idea,” Jason sighs on a weary exhale. “Havoc, this is 1. All three houses are empty. I repeat, all three houses are empty. No one’s home.”

“Copy, Bravo 1. Any sign of explosives?" 

“Nothing here,” reports Kairos. 

“Understood,” sighs Blackburn. “Gather any potential intel, and head to exfil.”

“Copy, Havoc.” Jason replies. “Alright guys, gather what you can. I want us out of here in five.”

Sonny takes the living room while Jason takes the bedroom, looking for anything that might be useful. As he’s finishing up his sweep, Jason hears a familiar rumble from outside; the first real noise they’ve heard all night. He moves to look out the window. 

“All Bravo signs, this is 1. Three vehicles are approaching from the west. Hold your positions until we see where they go. Anyone else have activity?" 

Ray and Clay both call in that everything is quiet, and Jason continues to watch the trucks.

Before the vehicles even have a chance to come to a stop next to the house, he hears Sonny’s panicked yell from the other room, “Shit, Jace!”

He hurries to the living room in time to see Sonny sprawled on the floor, clawing at the top of his back like he's struggling to scratch a hard-to-reach itch. Before Jason is able to figure out what he’s trying to do, his friend goes completely still, like a marionette whose strings have suddenly been cut.

Jason’s heart drops to his stomach as he crouches behind a chair and scans for the threat that took Sonny out. The front door is still closed from when they entered, and he doesn’t see anyone. 

He keys his comms and whispers, “Bravo 3 is down, I repeat, Bravo 3 is down. Threat is unaccounted for.” 

Before he has a chance to give his team any instructions, he hears a pop that’s immediately followed by a stinging pressure in the left side of his neck. He scrambles to stem the blood flow, but instead of finding a gunshot wound he finds and pulls out what can only be described as a rudimentary dart. 

Jason fumbles for his radio, but can’t drum up enough coordination to press his finger on the button, his body feeling heavier and heavier by the second. 

He sees a dark figure emerge from a door that wasn’t in the wall a minute ago. 

And then everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

Summer has just finished up his sweep of house two’s back room and joined Spenser and Sawyer in the kitchen when the whispered words crackle into his ear. 

“Bravo 3 is down, I repeat, Bravo 3 is down. Threat is unaccounted for.”

The frantic tone from their team leader sends a surge of adrenaline through the EOD specialist’s veins. 

The three men spend a minute staring at each other in suspended animation, waiting for more from Hayes to come through their comms. 

But it never does. 

“Bravo 1?” they finally hear Perry’s tense voice. “…Jason, sitrep?”

“Sonny, do you copy?” from Spenser.

They give it another 30 seconds, and you could cut the tension with a knife. There’s still nothing from the men in house one.

“Shit,” Sawyer mutters under his breath, as he raises his firearm and hurries for the door. Spenser follows right behind and Summer falls into line, afraid of what they’re going to find next door. 

They can already see Perry, Reynolds and the dog heading their way as they approach the house Hayes and Quinn were searching. The door is open, and they make entry quickly, Bravo 2 motioning for them to fan out and search. The house is small enough that they’re able to sweep it in about a minute. 

The bad news? Their men aren’t here. There’s nothing to indicate they ever were. 

The good news? That means their bodies aren’t here either, and there’s no obvious blood, so it doesn’t look like anyone bled out. 

But what does that leave them with? 

“What the hell?” Perry says. “Bravo 1, Bravo 3, do you copy?”

They don’t expect an answer, and none comes. 

“There aren’t any vehicles outside,” Spenser says from the window. “Jason said some pulled up, right?”

“So…what?” Sawyer asks, “They just willingly went along for a ride? I didn’t hear any gunfire. There’s no sign of a struggle, no blood. We know Sonny was down somehow. Jason would have been on high alert. No way someone gets the jump on him. Not close enough to knock him out anyway. It's only been a few minutes.”

“Okay, switch your team comms to channel 4,” Perry tells the room. “We don’t need anyone else using their equipment to listen in. Clay, keep channel 2 open just in case.”

“What is that?” Reynolds says, pulling Cerberus away from a spot he’s nosing on the floor. “Guys, I’ve got something,” he says, leaning down. “I think it’s a dart.”

“Don’t touch the tip,” the medic says, carefully reaching for the object and giving it a once over. “Could be poison, but sure would be easier to just shoot them if they wanted to kill them. Probably a tranquilizer.”

As if on cue, Cerberus whines and awkwardly shuffles to roll onto his side on the floor by his handler’s feet. 

“Cerb?” Reynolds asks worriedly. He crouches down, pulls water from his bag and scrubs the dog’s face with it, tries to get him to drink some. Cerberus is conscious, but his eyes are glassy and unfocused, tail moving sluggishly. He clearly touched or inhaled whatever was on that dart, and it kicked in frighteningly fast. The curly haired man remains crouched by his side, fingers scratching behind his ears and talking to him quietly.

Perry paces away and keys his comms. “Havoc, this is Bravo 2. We have a situation. Can you get a view from the air?”

“Negative, Bravo 2. What’s the situation?” 

“Bravo 1 and Bravo 3 are gone.”

A pause.

“Say again your last?”

“I repeat, we lost Bravo 1 and Bravo 3. They seem to have been taken from house one during our sweep. We found what appears to be a tranquilizer dart. Believe they were removed from the site by vehicle.”

“Copy, Bravo 2,” Blackburn replies, and Summer can hear the apology in his voice as he continues. “We can’t get ISR up in your area. Anything to go on?”

“Any ideas?” Perry asks the team, looking at each of them in turn.

When he’s greeted with silence and shaking heads, he calls in, “Negative. The vehicles probably moved west or north. But we didn’t see anything.” 

Perry takes a long pause before saying reluctantly, “We’re moving to exfil.”

“Copy, Bravo 2. Move quickly. The helo will be ready for you at the LZ.”

“We’re not just leaving them out here!” Spenser says angrily, pointing toward the window. 

“What exactly do you want to do, Clay?” Perry challenges. “We don’t have a vehicle, we don’t know who took them or where they’re going. We have less than three hours ‘til daylight. And if anyone else is in this village, they’re gonna come down on us any minute.”

Perry takes several deep breaths and steadies his voice. 

“I’m 2IC. It’s my decision. We’re going,” he says firmly.

“But…,” the younger man tries weakly.

“They’re my friends too, brother,” Perry says with more emotion in his voice than Summer has ever heard. “We don’t have another option. Believe me, I wish we did. But we don’t.” 

“He’s right, Clay,” Sawyer cuts in. “We need to go figure out our next move. We’re not giving up on them. Staying here and spinning our wheels isn’t gonna help.”

Spenser clears his throat and nods, but doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s go.”

They look for tire tracks on their way out, but there are too many to make any sense out of. The dog seems to come back to himself pretty quickly, and when he’s suitably recovered, they run. They get out of the village without any problems, and continue on toward the LZ. 

Summer thought he was in pretty good physical shape, but these men put him to shame. He’s well trained, but nothing like they are. Their elite conditioning is on full display, and they continue to travel the entire way at an all-out run. Not a jog, but a _sprint_. A sprint that goes on for miles. 

Summer is exhausted, and he knows he’s the weak link here, lagging behind the pack. But they don’t criticize him, instead encouraging him along the way, not once considering leaving him behind.

By the time they reach the helicopter, Summer is dead on his feet. Once on board, all he can do is sit and try to catch his breath.

He observes what’s left of Bravo team around him. Perry’s jaw is clenched as he stares out the door. Sawyer is examining the dart he brought with them, now safely ensconced in a plastic bag. Reynolds has his head bowed, one hand gripping his own hair, the other clutching Cerberus, who lies panting on his lap. And Spenser radiates tension, staring straight ahead, looking like he’s plotting someone’s murder. 

The hole left behind by the missing men is tangible.

Summer has been on a handful of ops with Bravo, and he’s gotten to know them fairly well. But he knows he’s only barely scratched the surface of the bond they share. They’re unusually casual and affectionate with one another compared to other teams he’s worked with, often referring to their team leader and each other by their first names while working. He’s even heard them call Lieutenant Commander Blackburn by his. It’s not unheard of, but it does indicate a level of familiarity – or a lack of professionalism – that is usually more buttoned up in their world, particularly when on missions. 

He supposes that closeness might be why they’re the best at what they do. 

But it’s also what makes their current situation so _devastating_.

Summer has faced danger with Bravo team before, but this is something else altogether. 

Knowing that Hayes and Quinn are out there somewhere, but having no idea what their conditions are, what they’re going through, with no leads to find them?

It feels like they’ve already lost. 

Summer knows leaving without them was the right choice, but it’s crushing even for him. He can’t fathom what it’s like for these men who consider them to be closer than brothers.

When they arrive at the C-17 being used as their mobile TOC, the aircraft is buzzing with activity. They update command and their support team on the details of the failed op, pore over maps of the area, try to work out where the trucks might have come from. Where they went. 

But they don’t know who took their men or why, and they have absolutely _nothing_ to go on. 

“Was it the Inventor?” Spenser asks. “Did he get wind we were coming and plan the whole thing?”

“Would mean we’d have to have a leak,” Blackburn says. “This has been a tightly controlled op from the jump, and it developed quickly. Not impossible, but probably not likely.”

“Maybe it was all a set up from the beginning?” Reynolds counters. “Fake intel to lead us into a trap?” His gaze shifts to their CIA analyst. 

Ellis has been on the phone, pacing, since they arrived. Trying to get satellite images and any intelligence she can muster that might explain how things went so horribly wrong. 

Whatever happened, it was sophisticated and well planned. Summer feels like a fish out of water, wishes he had something to contribute. 

“Got it. Let me know as soon as you have more,” Ellis finishes her call. “Hey guys, you need to see this _now_ ,” she declares to the room, as she moves to the table and pulls up a file on her laptop. “This video was just posted on an anti-American dark site.”

The screen flickers on to reveal Hayes, dimly illuminated, sitting tied to a chair. Well, sitting isn’t really the right word. More like slumping. He looks dirty, but Summer doesn’t see any obvious wounds. He’s clearly disoriented though, so something happened to him. His head is lolling and he keeps trying to lift it to look at the person behind the camera. 

The team watches in silent horror as a hooded man enters the frame with a thick, serrated knife. He grabs Hayes by the hair, roughly yanks his head back and presses the blade to their leader’s throat.

“Fuck you!” is heard off screen, and the camera pans to reveal Quinn. If Hayes is disoriented, the younger man definitely isn’t. He’s _fuming_. The Texan is standing across from Bravo 1, and his hands are chained above his head. He looks furious, _frantic_ , but doesn’t appear to be injured. 

There’s a menacing chuckle from behind the camera, and the video ends. 

“That’s it?” Sawyer asks after a tense beat of deafening silence. “No demands? No explanation? Nothing?”

Spenser is on his feet. “How is that supposed to help us?” he asks harshly. “Who are they? What do they want?”

“We already have techs picking apart every frame,” Ellis states through a veneer of calm. “The website and video file too. If there’s anything there, we’ll catch it.” 

Reynolds approaches the woman with pleading in his eyes. “Do more,” he says plaintively. “You sent us out there blind. Find them, Mandy.” 

The room is quiet as Ellis looks shaken but holds eye contact with the man. She finally blinks a few times, nods her head twice, and silently walks off the plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using this story to challenge myself to write more group scenes, which I find difficult. So apologies if it's hard to track the action or conversation. I'm working on it. Just one more step in this storytelling journey, which is so different than the kind of writing I'm used to.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better way to celebrate today's news of a season 3 renewal than to beat up on the guys some? 
> 
> Warning for torture here, though it isn't really graphic.

Awareness comes back to Sonny in bits and pieces. 

Vague, cloudy flashes:

He’s in a moving vehicle. 

Flash

Being carried like a sack of potatoes by his arms and legs.

Flash

Dropped in a heap on a hard, dirty floor. 

By the time he comes to full consciousness, he’s sprawled awkwardly on the ground in a room with rough stone walls. It’s dark, with no natural light, but the space is dimly illuminated by lanterns and flashlights. The room feels damp and chill, the air heavy.

He hears a moan to his right and turns to see Jason, tied by his arms and legs to a rickety wooden chair. There’s a man crouched next to him, injecting something into his arm. Jason jerks and exhales on a harsh groan, eyes finding Sonny’s with a pained look, before he clenches them tight and rolls his head back, whole body straining with tension. 

Sonny stays quiet, breathes slowly, doesn’t want to let on that he’s awake. 

He tries to recall what happened, but the last thing he remembers is searching the living room of the target house. Then nothing. Just darkness.

He surreptitiously takes stock of the space, and while it’s too dark to see clearly, he doesn’t think any other members of Bravo team are here. Thank God for small mercies.

Apparently he isn’t as discreet as he thinks, because it’s only a minute or two before they figure out he’s awake. Two men grab him by the arms and roughly drag him to the middle of the room about eight feet across from Jason, jerking him to his feet. There’s a shackled chain hanging from some kind of pulley on the ceiling, and they waste no time stringing him up with his arms above his head. 

Frankly, he’s had worse. There’s enough give in the chain that his feet – which he now notices are barefoot – remain firmly planted on the ground, and he actually has decent range of motion with his arms, which aren’t pulled taut. He’s less concerned with his current physical state than he is wondering what this is all about. Who these people are and what their endgame is. 

Jason is panting heavily and seems to be struggling to hold on to consciousness. Sonny figures his turn is next with whatever drug they’ve inflicted on his friend, but the man who injected Jason doesn’t come near him. 

He counts four men in the space with them, but none of them say anything. 

Well, Sonny isn’t going to start the conversation. He’ll wait them out.

Turns out, they don’t waste much time.

“Do you like the movies?” one of the men directs to Sonny in remarkably good English, waving a phone in his face. “Let’s make a movie.”

Next thing he knows, there’s a large man holding a knife to Jason’s throat, and this is all suddenly _very_ real. 

It’s like all of Sonny’s training goes out the window in one fell swoop. 

The Navy has spent _years_ of conditioning and countless dollars preparing him for a situation like this. Intellectually, he knows he’s supposed to be stoic, put on an air of indifference. Not show emotion or give them anything to use as leverage against him. If that means watching someone else die, so be it.

But it’s _Jason_. And before Sonny can stop himself, he lashes out. Completely loses his shit cursing them out. Broadcasts to the entire room how important the man in front of him is. 

And he immediately hates himself for it.

The man with the camera chuckles and punches him lightly in the arm, like he’s an old friend laughing off a bad joke. 

And then their captors just walk away. And he’s left alone with Jason, who’s much more alert now, a thick trail of blood creeping down his neck onto his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Sonny rushes out. “Jace, I’m sorry. I thought he was gonna kill you, and it just happened.” 

“Stop,” Jason croaks out as he breathes deeply. “What do they want?” 

“Apparently that’s not need to know. Bastards haven’t said. Think they took a video though. Not sure I was ready for my close up.”

The desperate attempt to add some levity to their situation falls flat.

Jason nods, and there’s a long pause.

“Sonny, whatever they want from us? Whatever they want to know or want us to do? _You_ to do? It can’t happen. You _know_ that.”

“I know. It won’t.”

“No matter what they do to us or what they threaten to do.” 

Sonny nods, lowers his head sheepishly. 

“Look at me, Bravo 3,” Jason says with urgency. 

When Sonny looks up there’s a determined fire in the older man’s eyes. 

“ _No matter what_. That’s an order.”

“Understood, Boss. I get it.”

But Sonny’s afraid he’s trying to convince himself.

++++++++++++++++

Morning comes, and with it comes a tunnel of light, revealing that they’re actually in a small mountain cave, with a low ceiling and craggy walls.

The men are back. And apparently it’s time to get down to business.

Their methods aren’t exactly cutting edge, as far as torture goes. 

They start with Jason, injecting him with that same damn drug that causes his friend to writhe in pain and moan unabashedly. It’s hard to watch. Sonny knows how tough Jason is, how much of a bad ass. For such a small vial of liquid to cause this kind of reaction? He doesn’t know what it is, but he does know his friend is in agony.

But Jason stays strong, doesn’t say anything or even look their captors in the eyes. It fortifies Sonny. Gives him the confidence that if his brother can do it, he can too. 

Sonny doesn’t get the drug. Instead, they add more slack to his chain, and then they start beating the hell out of him. 

It starts with a fist to his left temple that leaves his ears ringing and sends stars flashing across his vision. Sonny’s been in more bar fights than he’d care to admit to, and this certainly isn’t the first shot to the head he’s taken. But here he’s completely vulnerable – unable to defend himself or fight back. It sends him staggering to the ground.

Instead of pulling him back to his feet, they leave him there and two of the men take turns kicking his stomach, his sides, his back. He doesn’t think the kicks are hard enough to break anything, but he’ll certainly have some good bruises later. 

But Sonny is able to follow Jason’s lead. Doesn’t say anything, reacts as little as he can. 

It kind of reminds him of the cheesy, low budget action flicks he enjoyed as a kid. The protagonist standing strong against the brutal interrogation of the big, bad villain. 

Except there _is_ no interrogation. These men still haven’t said anything to indicate what they want or who they are. 

They back away and seem to be done, and not a single word is exchanged. 

None of it makes any sense.

Then another man approaches Jason with a bundle in his arms. Sonny’s heart stutters as he immediately recognizes it for what it is, but his brain has a hard time registering what it means. 

It’s an SVEST. And they’re strapping it all the way around his brother’s chest and arms, and securing it at the back of his chair. 

And nothing these bastards have done to them so far matters anymore. The terror that spreads through Sonny’s veins is like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s bone-deep.

He’s so laser focused on what’s happening to Jason that it takes a beat for Sonny to realize he’s being hauled to his feet again. But this time, the chain securing his arms above his head is then guided across the ceiling to another pulley above Jason.

Sonny’s horror grows as they show him what looks like an alarm clock with a red, glowing 3:00, and then they’re connecting it to the chain and vest on Jason.

And time just stops. 

Sonny can’t breathe. 

The implication is clear. If Sonny puts too much tension on the chain, it will start the timer. And he’ll have three minutes to anticipate his friend’s death. 

Probably his own too. 

All Sonny can do is stare at Jason, who is coherent enough now that he’s staring right back. 

And then the men leave again. 

“Jay?” Sonny asks after a long minute, and he can’t control the shake in his voice. 

“I don’t know,” is all his friend can say. “They’re probably filming us.”

Sonny doesn’t know whether to be furious or terrified. He knows how terrorism works. Knows American soldiers - especially _elite_ soldiers - are prized captives, and that killing them on camera is a tool to advance the 'cause.' But usually, that means run of the mill torture. Executions. Beheadings. He's never seen anything quite like this. 

“What is this? Some kind of _Saw_ shit?”

Jason doesn’t answer, and they continue to stare at each other for long minutes.

“I don’t want my kids to see it,” Jason finally breaks the silence, looking away. And it’s the first time Sonny has sensed any real emotion from the man since they’ve been here, the façade he’s maintained to this point finally cracking around him. 

“See what?” 

“Me. Dying on the internet. They've been through enough.”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Sonny replies fervently, before he can even let himself think about it too much. “I’m not gonna let it happen. I’ll stand like this forever if I have to.”

Jason smiles at him sadly, “I know you will, Sonny.” 

++++++++++++++++

A pattern develops over the rest of the day, through the night and deep into the next morning. Their captors come in every few hours, inject Jason and beat on Sonny. Rinse and repeat.

Sonny looks forward to the beatings. 

Because when the men come to torture them, they give the chain more slack, and Sonny gets a reprieve from the terror of accidentally bringing his arms down and killing his friend in the process.

But then it always stops, they tighten the tension again and leave. 

When he’s strung up, Sonny has just enough slack that he can rest his hands on the crown of his head without starting to feel the real pull of the chain. He’s not willing to risk bringing them any lower, not sure how much tension is required to start the timer. 

For a while, his arms are numb, like noodles he just needs to keep balanced above his head. But eventually they start cramping, and the agony steadily increases to become the most excruciating pain he’s ever felt. Nothing he ever went through in BUD/S or Green Team even comes close.

Jason isn’t doing much better. Every time they inject him, it seems like he has a harder time coming back from it. His whole body has developed a persistent tremor, and he’s vomited on himself a few times. Sonny’s afraid the convulsions are going to cause Jason’s chair to tip over and end it all, but he doesn’t say anything. Knows his friend can’t help it. 

They talk some, but they’re both so steeped in their own misery, they mostly stay quiet. 

Just when Sonny is finally starting to let some real doubts creep in about his ability to sustain this much longer, he’s mercifully given a break. The next time the men come into the cave, they’ve just loosened his chain when a squawk comes though their radio and they leave. 

Sonny collapses, heaving on the ground, unable to believe his good fortune. The men don’t immediately come back, so he lets himself lie down, wary of moving the chain too much, but allowing himself to drift off, catching rest while he can.

+++++++++++++

Sonny doesn’t know how long it’s been when they wake him up with a kick, but it’s growing dark again. 

They yank him back to his feet, and he can’t help the sob that escapes his throat when they tighten the tension in his chain. Somehow, the pain is even worse now. His whole body stiffened up in sleep, and his arms are on fire. He feels the tears leaking down his cheeks, but he doesn’t even care anymore what these men think of him. What Jason might think. 

They leave, and he continues to cry silently. 

He tries to comfort himself by thinking about the good things in his life that have brought him to this point. His friends. His _brothers_. Love for his country. For the man sitting across from him who took a chance on a brash, short-tempered, cocky Texan who desperately needed purpose and stability... a _family_. 

He's thankful for all of it. Doesn't regret a thing.

But he can't overcome the immense desperation he's feeling.

“Sonny, it’s okay,” Jason says quietly, and Sonny hadn’t even realized the other man was conscious.

“What’s okay?” he asks warily. 

“If it’s too much,” his friend replies softly. 

“No!” he sobs out, realizing what Jason is saying; what he's giving him permission to do. “No, Jace. Stop. It’s not gonna happen.” 

“They aren’t covering their faces. We aren’t blindfolded,” Jason says shakily, slurring his words slightly, half delirious with pain and the ravaging effects of the drug on his weakened body. "I don’t know what this is, but they aren’t planning on letting us out of here alive. I think they’re just waiting for us to end it.”

“I said stop,” Sonny pleads.

“Sonny, I know you don’t want to,” the man pants. “I do. I’m just saying, if it gets to that point, it’s okay. Just close your eyes and do it. It isn’t your fault.” 

“Fuck you, Jason,” Sonny lets out. But there’s no fight behind the words. “What if the guys are coming?” he asks desperately. “What if they’re almost here?”

Jason’s head starts lolling again. “Sonny, I couldn’t have asked for a better brother...to run with all these years.” 

And then he drifts off again, leaving Sonny alone. 

He wishes their roles were reversed. That this burden could be taken from him. 

It’s too much. 

Sonny knows that at some point, in the very near future, there’s nothing he’s going to be able to do anymore to keep this from happening. He's had nothing to eat or drink. Barely any sleep. He’s weak. Beyond exhausted. In more pain than he can ever remember feeling. 

And there’s no end in sight.

Actually, there is. There’s one end. The end that’s being forced upon them. And he’s the one who’s going to have to end it, whether he wants to or not. 

But he isn’t quite ready to accept that yet, so he starts up a familiar mantra in his head.

_Lord, let me not prove unworthy of my brothers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be traveling for the next week, so might not be able to finish up the next part until next weekend. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading. You guys are great.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for character death here. Not one of our main guys, but sad all the same.

Cerberus is _pissed_. 

Brock can tell, knows the signs well. Their four-legged team member doesn’t understand where Jason and Sonny are or why the rest of Bravo isn’t out there trying to find them. And it’s making him downright ornery.

The hair missile has always been acutely in tune to the emotions of the group, and he’s been absorbing nothing but anger, desperation, helplessness and fear for more than 24 hours now, with no way to process what it means.

Brock often wishes he could speak to Cerberus, have actual conversations. They communicate just fine – remarkably _well_ , actually – but there are times when the “language” barrier makes things more difficult than he’d like. 

Truth is, Brock often forgets Cerberus is a dog. He’s his partner, his teammate and his best friend. They spend nearly all of their time together, and they’re a well-oiled machine, reading and understanding each other without conscious thought. So his inability to just explain to Cerberus what’s going on – that they haven’t abandoned or forgotten their brothers – is frustrating. 

And it makes Brock feel guilty. 

“Could you _please_ just get him to relax?” Ray says irritably, waving toward Cerberus, who is stalking back and forth, pacing the small warehouse they’re now using as base. “He’s getting on my last nerve.” 

“None of _us_ are relaxed,” Brock counters. “Why should he be?”

Ray takes a breath and bows his head in apology, and Brock immediately feels sorry for snipping back. 

Ray is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s written all over his face. Not only did he have to make the difficult decision to exfil without the whole team, but he left his _best friend_ behind in the process. Being 2IC is a tough position to be in, and by definition, that mantle of responsibility comes to you at the very worst of times. To have to take over as leader of the team mid-op? It means shit seriously hit the fan. 

Brock sighs and calls Cerberus to the couch he’s sitting on. 

The dog slinks over dejectedly. He lets out a dramatic huff before hopping up next to his handler and settling his head in Clay’s lap instead with a snuffle. 

His little temper tantrum would be funny if the whole situation wasn’t so awful.

Mandy has been gone since the horrible video of Jason and Sonny being held captive was posted online. Brock knows she’s working her ass off, trying to gather intel, run down sources, anything that will lead them to their missing men. 

But it feels like she’s abandoned them. 

It’s been a full day now since Jason and Sonny were taken, and they don’t have a single shred of information more than they did 24 hours ago. _Nothing_ . Not about who took them, which direction they went, where they might be…whether they’re even alive. 

They’ve watched the video countless times, and every viewing is a kick to the gut. The disorientation on Jason’s face and the anger on Sonny’s fill Brock with a simmering rage. And he doesn’t know what to do with it; has nowhere to direct it. He knows the rest of the team feels the same. They’re scared, tempers are flaring and they’re reaching the end of their collective rope. 

Brock finds himself wishing another video would show up, just so he can _know_ something. But he hates himself for feeling that way. The fact that there isn’t another video probably means Jason and Sonny haven’t been killed. Because if they had been, that would almost certainly have shown up online. It’s what gives him hope that the abrupt video they did see ended the way it did solely for dramatic effect, and that Jason’s throat wasn’t slit as soon as the screen went dark. None of them have actually acknowledged the possibility that it could already be over. 

“I just don’t understand why they aren’t demanding anything,” Trent says for the third time in the last hour. “Doesn’t make any sense to post one video, not say who you are, and then go silent. What the hell do they want?” 

No one has an answer, of course. None of it makes sense. Most kidnappings of American service members serve one of three purposes – torturing the hostages to attain information, using them as leverage in a negotiation or the public brutalization of the enemy. 

At this point, it would seem most likely that Jason and Sonny are being tortured for info. But why post the video then? Just to taunt them?

There’s no indication why it’s taking so long for the abductors to make their intentions clear. 

So the remaining members of Bravo have been left with this long, protracted wait for the other shoe to drop. 

“Of all people to take…” Clay muses with a sad laugh. “Can’t imagine Jason and Sonny are making it easy on them.”

“Oh, Quinn is _definitely_ not making it easy on them,” Kairos says with a shudder.

There are chuckles around the room before they settle into quiet again. 

Brock smiles thinking about Sonny. The brash Texan isn’t someone he’d ever have been friends with in the civilian world. They’re too different. But they’ve developed a deep bond over the years. It’s like they’re brothers who hate each other in a deeply loving kind of way. Sonny can drive Brock absolutely _crazy_ , irks him like no one else quite has the ability to do…but he knows the man would be there for him in a heartbeat if he ever needed anything. And Brock _does_ play a pretty good straight man to Sonny’s cut up. 

His throat tightens a bit when his thoughts turn to Jason. Bravo 1 isn’t only their leader when they’re down range, he’s the glue that holds them all together back home too. He deeply cares about each of them on a personal level. Brock knows he owes not only his career to the man, but also his life away from work. Jason has been there for him through some really rough times, things the rest of the guys don’t even know about. He knows there’s nothing he can ever do to repay the man; knows Jason wouldn’t expect or want it anyway. But he feels a responsibility to find him and bring him safely home to his kids.

Brock is pulled from his thoughts by a sudden flurry of activity at the warehouse entrance. Mandy and Blackburn hurry in, followed by the rest of Bravo’s support team. 

“ _Finally_ ,” Trent says under his breath, as they all get to their feet. 

“We think we found them,” Mandy starts. “We followed a tip from an informant who reported a local fighter bragging about two American soldiers being held in a mountain cave near the border in northeastern Pakistan. We’ve been able to track satellite images from the last 48 hours, and there’s been a definite increase in activity. No sighting of Hayes or Quinn, but the coverage we have to work with is far from comprehensive. Trucks have been coming and going from the cave, and there are men posted outside.” 

“Do you trust this informant?” Clay asks.

“Not completely. But it’s the best we have for now.”

“What if it’s another trap?” Ray questions. “I’m not sending the team in there if we don’t know what we’re walking into.” 

“If Sonny and Jason might be there, it’s worth the risk,” Clay insists. 

“There’s a good chance it _could_ be a trap,” Blackburn cuts in. “We’re fairly confident now that the Inventor himself was never in the village you hit. We believe you were lured there so his men could do exactly what they did. We just don’t know why yet. What their plan is.” 

“Ray, any other day, you’d be champing at the bit to get in there,” Clay says.

“It’s not any other day, brother,” Ray pins the younger man with his eyes. 

“We’ve gone out with less before,” Brock chimes in.

“Two of our men are missing, including our team leader,” Ray sighs. “Of _course_ we’re going. I just want to make sure we’re as prepared as we can be. I’m responsible for getting your sorry asses back here safely. And theirs.” 

“We’re spinning up Alpha team,” Blackburn says. “They should be here tomorrow morning. Foxtrot isn’t far behind.” 

“You know we aren’t waiting for them,” Trent says. 

“I know,” Blackburn confirms. “But we don’t know what to expect. And I can’t emphasize enough that there is no cavalry coming if you get into trouble. Not until Alpha gets here.” 

“Understood,” Ray says.

“But you _are_ waiting until dark.”

+++++++++++++++++

The hours spent waiting for darkness to fall feel like an eternity. They spend the day trying to get some rest, they have a few more briefings and then they jock up to head out. 

If there’s a silver lining, it’s that the mountain’s remoteness and proximity to the border mean they can travel in and out by helicopter without too much of a chance of detection. They’re dropped a few clicks out and continue in on foot. 

They approach the cave quietly and settle in to observe through their NODs from a distance. There’s one pickup truck outside, and Brock counts five men. There’s no angle that will give them a look inside the cave without being exposed, so they make the decision to take the men out quietly and simultaneously, in the hopes that they won’t have time to alert anyone who might be inside.

They each call out a target, take their shots without any problem and move forward. Cerberus sits down, signaling for explosives well before they get to the cave entrance. 

“I have a positive on explosives,” Brock reports. 

As badly as they want to storm in to see if their men are here, they know they need to take it slowly.

It’s quiet as they enter, and they don’t encounter any more hostiles on their way in. The lighting is dim, and Brock, Cerberus and Kairos lead the way. 

And that means Brock is also the first to see their brothers. 

His first feeling is a surge of relief. That they found them. That they seem to be in one piece. 

“Stop,” Kairos says. “Nobody move.”

And that’s when Brock has a chance to take in the full scene. 

Sonny is standing awkwardly in the middle of the space, chained to the ceiling, arms crossed and resting on his head. Brock can feel the tension emanating from his rigid body. His eyes follow the chain to Jason, who is slumped in a chair, seemingly unconscious. 

But the bigger concern is the _bomb_ strapped around the older man’s body. 

When his brain finally puts the pieces he’s seeing together, Brock is horrified. 

“What the _fuck_ is this?” Trent finally says what they’re all thinking.

“Shit,” Clay gasps out.

“Alright, keep it together,” Ray tells them.

Neither Sonny nor Jason react to the team’s presence, and Brock wants nothing more than to hurry forward to get them out of here. But he knows they need to give Kairos the chance to do his job. That’s why he’s here.

They slowly move forward, as Kairos determines that they aren’t about to trigger anything, and they finally reach Sonny and Jason. 

Kairos settles in at Jason’s side to take a look at the bomb, followed by Ray and Trent. 

“Jace?” Ray says, crouching next to his friend. “You hear me, brother? _Jason?_ ”

Brock doesn’t think their leader replies, but he’s already too pre-occupied with Sonny. 

The Texan’s eyes are half open, but he’s staring vacantly ahead, like he’s in a trance. He doesn’t seem to even be aware they’ve come in. His eyes are red rimmed and dried tear tracks are clearly visible down his dirt covered cheeks. Bruises are evident through the grime and his lips are badly cracked. His mouth is slightly open, and his breathing is coming in small, quick pants. 

“Sonny?” Clay calls hesitantly.

Sonny’s eyes slowly shift to the younger man, but there’s no recognition there, and Brock watches as Clay’s face falls. 

“What are we looking at, Kairos?” Ray asks the EOD specialist, who is bent behind Jason, examining the bomb and the mechanism it’s attached to.

“Enough that we definitely don’t want it going off in here.”

“Can you disarm it?” 

“Give me a minute,” Kairos replies. “Don’t move anything yet. Keep them still,” he says, gesturing to Jason and Sonny.

Sonny is trembling slightly, and Brock reaches out slowly to help him support his arms and body weight. The man groans painfully when touched, but doesn’t try to move away. Clay steps forward to do the same on the other side, the men physically helping him hold his weight up.

“You’re okay, Sonny,” Clay says, so quietly Brock can barely hear him. “We’ve got you. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just a little longer, buddy.”

“Kairos?” Ray asks impatiently from Jason’s side. 

“It’s pretty unstable. I don’t want to risk disarming it in here, but I think I can get it off of him without setting the trigger,” Summer replies. 

“You think?” Trent asks, carefully feeling the pulse point in Jason’s neck.

“Best I can do,” Kairos replies as he gets to work. 

Ray steps away from Jason and keys his radio. “Havoc, this is Bravo 2. We’ve found Bravo 1 and Bravo 3 in the cave. Both are alive, but neither is able to offer assistance. They’re rigged to an SVEST. 7 is working on it now.” 

“Copy, Bravo 2,” Blackburn replies. “What’s their status?” And Brock knows he’s asking out of concern for friends, not operational necessity. 

“Jason is unconscious. He’s shaking. I’m not sure what’s wrong. And Sonny…I don’t know. This is bad,” Ray says shakily. “Trent can’t really evaluate them until we get rid of the bomb. We’re gonna need medical teams ready when we get back.” 

“Understood, Bravo 2. Working on that now.”

“Spenser, head back outside,” Ray directs. “Set security.”

“No,” Clay shoots back. “He needs help, Ray. He can barely stand.”

“We don’t know who else is going to show up,” Ray replies impatiently.

“Please, don’t make me leave him,” Clay pleads.

Ray’s tone softens. “Clay, I need my best shot outside, and that’s _you_. I’m sorry. I need you to go.”

Clay looks at him like he’s been betrayed in the worst possible way. 

“It’s the best thing you can do to protect him right now,” Ray emphasizes.

“It’s okay,” Brock says, adjusting his grip on Sonny. His skin is disturbingly cool to the touch. “I’ve got him.” 

Clay nods, takes one last look at Sonny and reluctantly heads back outside.

“Hey, Sonnyboy,” Ray says gently, moving into the space Clay left. “Can you hear me?”

The Texan blinks slowly, but otherwise doesn’t react. It makes Brock’s eyes prick with tears, and he sniffs and looks away.

“That’s okay,” Ray says, in the same gentle tone Brock’s heard him use with Jameelah. “You did a good job. We’re gonna take you home real soon.”

Ray’s eyes raise to meet Brock’s. “I’ve got him. Take a sweep with Cerberus. Make sure there aren’t any surprises hidden in here with us.”

Brock makes sure Ray has a good grip on Sonny before leading Cerberus to the wall to start a circuit of the small chamber. They don’t find any more explosives, but they do find cameras embedded in the mountain – one facing Sonny, one facing Jason and a couple more scattered throughout. Brock’s blood boils. 

He and Cerberus are finishing up their inspection of the wall near the entrance to the cave when Kairos finally removes the bomb from Jason’s body, Trent holding the older man still throughout. 

“I’m gonna take it outside,” Kairos says. “No one move until I’m out. Don’t even breathe.” 

Time stands still as they watch Kairos move across the room at a snail’s pace, the vest in his arms. Cerberus whines as he passes, and Brock touches his head gently to soothe him.

Kairos has just made it past the entrance and Brock has finally allowed himself a moment of relief when it happens.

There’s a sudden, high-pitched beep from the bundle in Summer’s arms, and before Brock can even register what’s happening, Kairos yells, “Get down!,” and drops belly first on top of the bomb.

Brock has barely a split second to turn away before the blast from the explosion knocks him off of his feet and throws him to the ground.

And then the mountain crumbles down around him.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s like the end of the world. 

At least what Hollywood makes the end of the world look like in all those apocalyptic movies Trent makes them watch.

The explosion sweeps through the cave with tremendous force, and Ray finds himself in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

He’s not sure how much time passes before he’s finally able to summon the strength to open his eyes. Probably only seconds, but it feels like he’s waking from a deep sleep. His head is pounding and his ears are ringing loudly enough that he can’t even hear himself breathe. It’s dark, and the air feels thick. He’s hyper aware of a grittiness on his tongue when he breathes in. 

Ray raises his hand to his head to discover his helmet is gone, and his hair is covered in dirt. He fumbles for his vest, grabbing his flashlight to illuminate the space. Dust permeates the air around him, and he struggles to orient himself while it settles, stomach rolling with nausea. 

His head is foggy, and it’s hard to collect his thoughts. He knows that when the explosion happened, he was holding onto Sonny. 

_Shit, Sonny._

Ray scrambles up and spins around to find Sonny exactly where he last saw him. Except now he’s hanging limply from the ceiling, feet no longer planted firmly on the ground. 

“Sonny?” He calls, and while sound is coming back, his own voice sounds far away. Sonny doesn’t react, so he pulls the man up by the waist to lessen the strain on his shoulders – one is at a slightly wrong angle, and Ray’s afraid it may have dislocated from the force of the bomb working against the man’s immobile arms. 

He uses one hand to wipe the Texan’s dirty face down. His eyes are closed now, and Ray reaches for his neck, relieved to find a pulse, but he knows it’s too rapid. 

“Brock? Trent? Are you okay?” He calls.

“Yeah,” Trent coughs out, and Ray pans his flashlight over to find Trent hunched next to Jason, working to untie the still-unconscious man from the chair, which has tipped over. 

“We’re good.” Trent says, as he maneuvers Jason flat on the ground, pushing the chair away. 

Ray takes 'good' to mean 'alive' in this case, because he’s pretty sure Jason is anything but _good_. 

“Do you have the bolt cutters? I need help with Sonny.”

Trent cracks his chem lights and drops them along the way as he limps to Ray and Sonny, giving them enough light to keep an eye on Jason.

“ _Brock?!_ ” Ray calls again, as Trent starts working on Sonny’s chain. 

Ray’s heart drops into his stomach when he doesn’t get an answer. He does as much of a sweep with his flashlight as he’s able while still holding Sonny up, but the range isn’t far enough to see the whole cave through the dirt still clouding the air. He thinks of the moments before the blast – pictures Brock and Cerberus inspecting the wall closest to the entrance. The entrance that he’s pretty sure has completely caved in.

“ _Cerberus?_ ” he calls desperately. 

Chain cut, they lower Sonny to the ground, his hands still shackled. Trent starts giving him a once over, and Ray cracks his own chem lights and tosses them around, greatly increasing visibility.

Suddenly Cerberus is there, whining at Ray’s side. 

“Go,” Trent says, palpating Sonny’s shoulder.

Ray follows Cerberus and is led straight to Brock.

The man is sprawled face down, his left side completely covered by the rocks piled where the entrance should be. His leg, side and lower arm are totally obscured by the rubble. Ray is relieved to see his head moving sluggishly, but now that he’s close, he can hear him gagging weakly. He drops to his knees and turns Brock’s face to the side, moving his mouth and nose away from the dirt and dust covered ground. Ray only spares a brief moment to worry about a potential neck injury, figuring if the man can’t breathe, it won’t matter anyway. He unceremoniously pries Brock’s jaw open and sweeps his fingers into the younger man’s mouth to clear his airway, pulling out a thick gob of wet dust the consistency of paste. 

Brock sucks in a stuttered breath and starts coughing and hacking. 

“Okay, you’re okay,” Ray says, cupping the crown of the younger man’s head. “Just breathe. Focus on slow, deep breaths.” 

Once Brock is able to catch his breath, he tries to move and immediately lets out a pained gasp. “My leg. I can’t…”

“Okay, hang on,” Ray says, as Trent appears at his side, crouching down to check on Brock. “Don’t try to move yet.”

Ray starts moving the rocks away, but pretty quickly realizes some are going to be too large and heavy to move on his own. While Trent continues to evaluate Brock, he inspects the rest of the caved in mound of rubble, looking for a way out. 

There’s nothing. 

“Clay?” Ray keys his radio. “Bravo 6, do you copy?” 

No answer. 

“Havoc, this is Bravo 2. Do you copy?”

Trent has moved to his side now, a concerned look on his face. He leans down and picks up a boot from the ground. 

Nausea rolls through Ray’s stomach when he realizes it doesn’t belong to anyone in the cave.

“ _Dammit_ ,” Ray curses, desperation ramping up. “Does anyone copy?”

When there’s still no answer, Ray turns to Trent. “Do you think Clay was far enough away from the entrance when it went off?” 

“I don’t know, Ray,” he says sadly. “And Summer…”

Ray shakes his head, clenches his eyes shut. The guilt overwhelms him. _He’s_ in charge. _He_ brought these men out here, and there’s at least one he isn’t bringing back home. 

Summer wasn’t officially part of the team, but he was still a brother, and it’s a huge loss. 

They came out here to rescue their teammates, their _friends_ , and instead they’re all now in need of rescue.

“I shouldn’t have let him move it,” Ray says. “He should have disarmed it here. Or we should have figured out how to…” 

“Ray, stop,” Trent interrupts. “Second guessing isn’t going to help anyone. It’s _definitely_ not gonna help them,” he gestures to their downed friends. 

Ray nods, can hear Jason's voice in his head telling him to work the problem. “I know,” he says, steeling himself. “What are we looking at?”

“They’re both severely dehydrated. I doubt those bastards gave them anything to drink this whole time, much less food to eat. I only have two bags of fluids in my med bag. We’ll have to give them each one. It’s not enough, but it’s something.” 

The medic looks back to their canine handler. “Then we need to try to get Brock free. He seems stable for now, but I’m worried about what might happen if he’s in that position for too long. He likely cracked some ribs. And his leg -”

“Guys!” Brock interrupts with a frantic tone. “Something’s wrong with Jason.” 

Ray turns to see that Cerberus has moved over to their leader, and the dog is aggressively nudging his midsection. Jason is retching, and not making any effort to move from his back. 

Ray hurries over to his friend, beating Trent, who Ray only now realizes has injured his leg. He quickly rolls Jason to his side so he doesn’t aspirate, helping to clear his mouth, though there isn't much there but bile. 

Jason’s eyes crack open and he moans, and Ray has never been so happy to hear someone express pain before. 

“Jace?” he asks hopefully. “Are you with me, brother?”

“Ray?” Jason croaks weakly. Now that he’s awake, the tremor in his body has increased. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Trent too,” he nods to Trent, who’s now bent down with them. Ray figures it’s best not to give Jason a full accounting of their situation, at least not for now. 

Trent’s examining Jason’s arm and neck, and Ray sees that he’s looking at needle marks there. 

“Jason, do you know what they gave you?” the medic asks.

“Hurt like a bitch,” Jason slurs, shaking his head. “Worse each time.” He clenches his eyes shut and groans. “Still does.”

“Think it affected your nerves somehow,” Trent says. “And your reflexes are shot to hell.”

“Sonny?” Jason asks with concern.

“We’ll take care of him,” Ray assures. “Do you know what they did to him?”

“Beat him,” Jason grits out, and he’s fighting to stay awake now, like the small bit of energy he had has been zapped. “They made him…I told him... Couldn’t let him carry that. I didn’t think we had a chance. Thought it was over.”

“I need you to take a couple sips of water,” Trent says, grabbing his pack to move his straw to Jason’s lips. “Then you can rest.”

“Start his IV,” Trent instructs Ray once Jason nods off. “I’ll get Sonny’s going.” 

Ray can’t get past Jason’s lack of awareness of their situation. Not only did he not try to take charge, which is very out of character, but he didn’t ask about the other guys or even seem to realize that they’re trapped here. It’s the biggest indication Ray has of how bad his friend’s condition is. 

Ray struggles to find a vein for the IV, evidence that any fluid they can get into Jason’s system is desperately needed. 

Once he’s done, he pats Jason’s arm gently and then joins Trent with Sonny, where the medic is examining the man’s torso. Ray is horrified to see it’s covered in a rainbow of intense bruises. “Jesus,” he lets out on a breath. 

“Yeah. I wish he’d wake up so I could assess him better,” Trent says. Sonny seems to truly be unconscious now, not just unresponsive like he was when they found him.

“Can you do anything for him?” 

“Hard to know what this is,” Trent’s voice is tinged with frustration. “It’s above my pay grade, man. Whatever’s going on isn’t just physical. At least not completely. It’s mental.”

“Sonny?” Ray says forcefully, touching the man’s shoulder. “It’s Ray. I need you to wake up and talk to me now, brother. Come on, you’re safe.” 

There’s no response.

Trent assures him Sonny isn’t in any immediate danger, and they move back to Brock. 

“Hey, Brock, how you doing, buddy?” Trent asks as they start working to clear the space around him. Cerberus has already moved back to his trainer’s side. 

“Been better,” the younger man chuckles weakly, and his breathing seems to be more labored now. 

Ray and Trent share a concerned look and pick up the pace. 

They’re bent over Brock when they suddenly hear what sounds like a faint volley of gunfire from outside. 

Trent looks up in confusion. “It’s too soon for Alpha to be here.”

Ray nods, “Clay?” 

“Shit, I hope the kid isn’t still here,” Trent replies. “If he made it out, he should have moved to exfil. Waited for Alpha. There’s no way he can stand against them alone.”

“Seems like something he’d do, though, right?” Brock asks. “Stick around instead of leaving?”

“Yeah, guess so,” Trent says with resignation.

“Maybe he’s hurt?” Ray offers. “Couldn’t leave?”

“God, I sure hope not,” the medic replies. “Then he has no chance at all.”

After a few minutes, the gunfire stops, and they don’t hear anything else from outside. Ray tries his radio again, with no luck. He expects hostiles to start to try to work their way into the cave, but several minutes go by, and they don’t hear anything. 

So they go back to working on Brock.

Ultimately, they’re able to free the younger man’s arm, but not his leg. The slab resting on it is simply too heavy. It’s also putting pressure on the side of his back, which seems to concern Trent as much as the leg. But the man is alert and in good spirits. As good as he can be, anyway. 

Ray and Trent move Sonny over near Brock, and finally cut his shackles off and reduce his shoulder. When Jason rouses again, they give him more water and move him too. 

Trent wraps his own ankle, which he insists is only sprained, though it looks awfully swollen to Ray. And the medic stitches up a gash on Ray’s head and gives him an exam, declaring that he has a minor concussion from the blast, which explains the headache and nausea he’s been feeling.

There isn’t much else they can do for the moment. They can only hope that Alpha team gets to them before the enemy does, and they know that’s still a good 8 or 10 hours away at the earliest. And that’s assuming Clay was able to report back to Havoc with their situation. If not – and Ray doesn’t even want to think about what that would mean for Clay – that timeline will probably be delayed while command tries to figure out what went wrong; why a whole team suddenly went off grid.

Jason has been alert enough to be made fully abreast of their situation, but his grasp on extended consciousness is tenuous at best. He only manages a few minutes of awareness at a time, and Ray can tell by the tightness around his eyes and mouth that he’s still in a lot of pain. The trembling is ever present and doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

Brock’s breathing has started to change significantly. He's developed a persistent wheeze, and Ray can tell Trent is _very_ concerned. The medic is focusing most of his attention on the younger man now, keeping him talking and monitoring his vitals regularly. 

And Sonny…well, nothing has changed with Sonny, and Ray doesn’t want to think too deeply about what that means. 

They settle into the quiet, which is dangerous for Ray. He has a tendency to think too much, and there’s nothing to do _but_ think. 

He can’t keep his thoughts from turning to Echo team. He remembers the shock everyone felt when the whole group was wiped out all in one go, and with it the memories, the friendships and the brotherhood they shared. It was so hard to wrap his head around the idea of a whole team suddenly just being _gone_. 

With everything in his being, Ray doesn’t want that to happen to his team. It would be such a _waste_. And he cares about these men too much to even imagine it.

Selfishly, if Ray has to die, he wants his brothers to live for Naima. So they can be there for her, make sure she’s okay, help with the kids. Share memories, remind her Ray was doing something important, something he loved. That's how he always imagined it would work. He _adores_ her. The thought of never seeing her again makes his chest ache. He would give anything to be home right now, to have her in his arms. 

He wants to be there to see Jameelah grow up, become a woman. Graduate, get married, have kids – all the milestones parents treasure. But just as much, he wants the quiet moments. Chats on the porch, family dinners. He wants to help her with her algebra and teach her how to drive. He wants to face the challenge of the teenage years, the rebellion that will inevitably come with it. 

He can’t picture all of that happening without him. 

And then there’s RJ. The little boy is too young to have any lasting memories of Ray. The thought of his son growing up without him, not knowing firsthand how much his daddy loved him, is unbearable.

“Stop, Ray,” Jason interrupts his thoughts. 

Ray discreetly wipes his eyes, looks at his friend. 

“Whatever you’re thinking about, just stop,” Jason continues shakily. “Get out of your head.”

Ray lets out a sad laugh, nods. _There's_ the Jason he knows. The best friend who's always able to tell exactly what he’s thinking. What he needs. 

There’s gunfire outside again. They all stay quiet and listen, helpless to do anything else. 

It _has_ to be Clay. There’s no other explanation that makes sense. 

But the thought is terrifying. It means their kid is alone, defending against what sounds like more than a handful of hostiles. 

But as scared as Ray is for Clay, he’s also immensely grateful. He knows that if Clay wasn’t there, their deaths would almost be guaranteed – the enemy would get to them eventually, and there’s no way they would be left alive. That still might be the ultimate outcome, but at least he knows they have a _chance_.

All Ray can do is put his faith in Clay to hold them off. 

And there’s no one else he trusts more to get the job done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's not a cliffhanger this time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little long, sorry.
> 
> I hope everyone has a lovely, safe Memorial Day. Just don't forget the reason for the day.

Everything outside is quiet. 

The moon is high and bright in the sky, and Clay is watching through his NODs for any activity coming their way. The area they’re in is hilly, mostly barren, but with pockets of growth closer to the mountain where he is – some trees, quite a few leafy plants and shrubs, and a lot of rocks. He stays alert, because he knows a vehicle could approach without much warning because of the terrain. 

The bodies of the men they killed remain where they fell, and Clay takes the opportunity to capture photos of their faces to send back to base. They may be helpful to Mandy in piecing together the Inventor’s network, and Clay wants nothing more than to get payback for what has transpired over the last few days. 

He’s upset he had to leave the cave, but he understands where Ray was coming from. He has a job to do, and if this is the best way he can help protect his friends, he’ll do it. 

When they entered the cave and found Jason and Sonny, Clay was relieved. But then he saw the situation they were in, and that relief turned to rage. 

Then Sonny didn’t even recognize him, and that rage fizzled out as quickly as it came, replaced by overwhelming sadness. 

What his friend must have gone through in that cave is hard to even imagine. Not the physical torture, but what the chain and the bomb clearly implied – that Sonny was solely responsible for keeping Jason alive.

One of the most important skills required to be an operator is the ability to compartmentalize – to put a difficult situation or feeling in a box and shove it away completely so it doesn’t distract from the mission objective. That’s the analogy that was used to describe the process in his training. 

That sounds nice, but Clay doesn’t quite picture it that way. In his experience, it’s more like putting the box behind a curtain. Sometimes the curtain is opaque, and sometimes it’s more delicate, more transparent. And you can’t always control which kind of curtain you get, can’t always completely remove the issue from your mind. Sometimes that’s good, because it can motivate you. But other times it consumes you, and everyone has a breaking point.

Clay wonders if that’s what happened with Sonny. If the weight on his shoulders was too much, and he reached a point where the horror of his situation tipped the scale too far and overcame his ability to compartmentalize, breaking him. 

Or maybe it isn’t that at all. Maybe he dissociated precisely so that he _could_ keep going, did it purposely. Maybe he knew the heavy emotions connected to his situation were going to be his downfall, so he removed them from the equation by removing himself. 

Clay is so glad they got to the man when they did. Regardless of strength of will, there’s only so much a body can physically do, and he doesn’t know how much more Sonny would have had in him. What he does know is that when this is over and they get him back home, the Texan is going to need the support of his friends, and Clay will be there for him 100%. _Anything he needs._

But first they need to get him out of here, and Clay’s wondering how they’re going to get Jason and Sonny to the exfil point when all hell breaks loose. 

He’s aware of Kairos exiting the cave, carrying the bomb in his arms, but he isn’t looking at him when it happens, having already turned back away to monitor the horizon. 

The strength of the explosion at his back causes Clay to stumble forward, forcing him to lose his balance and landing him on his hands and knees in the dirt. He’s back on his feet a moment later, turning in time to watch in horror as the entrance to the cave completely collapses in on itself in a huge cloud of dust.

“No,” he breathes out in shock. “No, no, NO!” his volume increases as he runs to the entrance. 

He watches the rubble settle as he keys his radio. “Ray? Are you okay? Brock? Trent?” He knows calling for Summer would be fruitless, and that’s something he doesn’t have time to dwell on.

There’s no reply. 

“Can anyone hear me?” he asks desperately. “Come in.”

When he still doesn’t get a response, he resorts to yelling, hoping maybe the guys will hear him through the impenetrable wall that’s now standing between them.

He stays quiet for several minutes, straining to hear any noise that might break out from inside. Aside from the clattering of settling rubble, he doesn’t hear anything. He tries to find a way in, moves what rocks he can, but there are large chunks of mountain that he has no hope of moving on his own. 

“Havoc, this is Bravo 6,” he finally gasps into his radio. “The bomb…” he trails off, not able to piece together the words to accurately describe what just happened.

“Go ahead, Bravo 6.”

He doesn’t even know how to start. Feels like saying it will make it all too real.

“Bravo 6, sitrep?” An edge of concern is evident in Blackburn’s voice now. “ _Spenser?_ ”

Hearing his name from his Commander snaps him out of his stupor. 

“Summer. He was bringing the bomb out. It went off. He…he’s gone.”

He pauses, takes a breath to try to calm himself. 

“I don’t…everyone else was inside. The explosion caused a cave in. I don’t know their status. None of them are answering.”

There’s a pause before Blackburn is back in his ear. “Copy, Bravo 6. What’s your current position?” 

“I’m outside. The rest of the team, they’re… _I can’t get in!_ I don’t even know if there’s still a cave left to get _into_.”

Havoc tries to reach the rest of Bravo on the radio, with no success. Clay tells himself it doesn’t mean they’re dead. There could be any number of reasons the radios aren’t working, most significantly the wall of rock he’s looking at.

Now that the immediate shock has started to wear off, Clay tells himself he needs to focus on his job, knowing it’s the only thing he can do for his brothers right now. He spends the next several minutes giving those back at base an accounting of everything that happened. He describes the physical condition they found Jason and Sonny in, offers what he can remember about the layout of the cave, and details the cruel contraption they found when they arrived. 

A streak of movement on the horizon suddenly catches his eye. 

“Someone’s coming. There’s a pickup.” That’s all he has time to say before he’s in motion.

Clay climbs about 25 yards up the mountain, which fortunately isn’t sloped too steeply, takes cover behind a boulder and waits. 

He watches five men jump out of the truck and run to their fallen comrades. They’re yelling to each other, but Clay can’t make out what they’re saying. They move to the cave entrance and start working to shift the rocks. 

Clay actually thinks this could work to his advantage. The men can clear a path and then he can take them out before they have a chance to get inside. 

But then one reaches for a radio, and that plan goes out the window. Clay knows he can’t give them a chance to call in reinforcements. But he also knows as soon as he takes a shot, it’s going to give away that he’s there. And he won’t be able to take them all out before they turn on him. 

He only has a split second to make his decision, and it really isn’t much of a decision at all. He can’t afford to give them the chance to call anyone else in. He shoots the man with the radio and is able to take another out before bullets start raining down around him from the other three.

For the next few minutes, he engages in a firefight with the remaining hostiles. Fortunately, Clay has the advantage. He has higher ground, night vision and a good position behind the boulder. But he has to expose himself each time he takes a shot, and it’s the last man left alive who finally gets him. He feels the burning pressure of the bullet in his upper arm right before his own shot lands between the final shooter’s eyes, killing him instantly.

Clay falls back on the ground, gasping for breath, adrenaline surging through his body. 

“Havoc, this is 6,” he pants. “The threat is neutralized.”

“Copy, 6,” there’s a pause. “Good job.” 

He inspects his right arm. It hurts, but he’s able to move it. And the wound isn’t bleeding too badly. The bullet seems to have gone straight through. 

“Took a shot to the arm,” he reports. “But it doesn’t seem too bad. Think I dodged a bullet.” 

He laughs at his unintentional use of the phrase. “So to speak.”

Blackburn actually chuckles. “Good to hear. Patch yourself up, and head to exfil.”

“No,” Clay says without even having to think about it.

“Spenser-“ 

“No. I’m not leaving them.”

He doesn’t know what the likelihood is that anyone from his team survived the explosion or the cave in. But if there’s even the smallest chance that just one of them is alive in there, he isn’t leaving. He’ll never abandon his brothers.

“Alpha team is still hours away,” Blackburn says. “Come back to base, and we can put a plan together. If you stay and more of the Inventor’s men show up, we can’t do _anything_ to help you.” 

“That’s why I can’t leave. If more come, and I’m not here, there’s nothing to stop them from getting in that cave.” 

“I need to make it very clear that we aren’t asking you to do this,” Blackburn says with resignation in his voice. “Exfil remains the advised course of action.”

“I understand,” Clay responds. “But I’m staying.”

“If you change your mind, it’s _okay_ ,” Blackburn says with conviction. “There’s no shame in leaving.”

With Trent and the team’s med bag inside the cave, Clay only has his small first aid kit to work with. He does his best to clean and bandage his arm, and then he takes photos of the five latest men to join the party. He collects their weapons as he goes. For one, he might end up needing the extra ammo. And two, if anyone else shows up, he doesn’t want them to be able to use them.

He tries his radio again and yells as loudly as he can at the cave entrance. There’s still nothing from inside.

He settles in, keeps his eyes on the horizon, and waits.

+++++++++++++++++

A few hours go by before another truck shows up. 

“Shit,” Clay sighs when he sees it, before sending off a quick message to base to let them know. 

He takes up the same position as before, behind the boulder, and waits for them to arrive. His arm aches deeply. He’s still not overly concerned about it, but it’s his shooting arm and he knows steadying his weapon and pulling the trigger is going to hurt. 

There are six of them this time, but this group is different. They don’t seem surprised by their dead friends, and they don’t inspect the cave entrance or try to move any rocks. 

It’s obvious this group knows Clay is here, and they waste no time spreading out to look for him.

Clay _really_ doesn’t want to take the first shot, knowing his chances against six men are pretty slim. But he also can’t let them get behind him, knows that’s almost guaranteed to be a death sentence. 

He waits as long as he can, until one is almost on top of him. He considers using his knife instead, but knows it would be disastrous if he didn’t manage to do it quickly and instead ended up in a prolonged knife fight. 

He takes the shot and then he’s actually able to take two more men out in pretty quick succession. 

The remaining three have managed to surround him, and bullets are coming at him from all directions. 

Now exposed, Clay abandons his boulder in favor of a copse of bushes about 20 feet away. He runs as fast as he can, shooting the whole way.

But he isn’t fast enough. 

He barely feels the bullet, but he hears its impact reverberate through his body. It’s like a rug is suddenly yanked out from under him and he goes down hard on his stomach. He rolls over and keeps firing defensively, tries to get back up, but his leg won’t work.

He frantically scrambles backward on his ass, boots scrabbling and slipping on the dirt and rocks as bullets ping around him. By pure luck, he manages to take another hostile out. If there’s a silver lining to all this, it’s that they don’t seem to be very well trained. 

He makes it to the bushes just in time to see one of the remaining men duck behind the boulder he abandoned. He knows the other is somewhere behind him, so he blindly sprays bullets in that direction, hoping he’ll get lucky again.

He reaches for his frag grenade, but hesitates. He’s not sure how stable this whole side of the mountain is at this point, so he grabs his flash bang grenade instead, praying it’s not the wrong decision. He tosses it toward the boulder, and it has the desired effect. The man jerks away from the startling device, exposing himself, and Clay takes him out. 

The final hostile seems to come out of nowhere, bodily slamming into him from the side. His knife slices across Clay’s belly and side before Clay is able to knock it out of his hand. He sees the man’s other hand is mangled and gets some pleasure from realizing one of his shots was, in fact, lucky. They roll on the dirt in hand to hand combat, but Clay is clearly more experienced and has the upper hand. He’s able to pull his handgun from his side and a quick double tap brings the whole thing to an end.

Clay shoves the man away and tries to catch his breath as stars flash across his vision.

He moans as pain finally sears through his left thigh. As badly as he wants to rest, to catch his breath, he knows instinctively that he wasn’t as fortunate with this bullet as he was with the first. He turns his helmet light on and uses his shears to cut his pant leg off just below his hip. He’s bleeding heavily, and a chunk of his thigh is actually gone, bone fragments on the outside where they shouldn’t be. 

He pulls a tourniquet from his pack and yells as he tightens it above the damage, vision whiting out at the pain. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes while he tries to steady his breathing, tries to think about anything other than the agony.

Eventually, his radio crackles to life. 

“Spenser?” It’s Blackburn’s voice, whispered.

He moans, summons the energy to reach for his radio. The motion jostles his side and he gasps, reminded of the gash across his middle. He grabs his discarded pant leg, uses it to put pressure on the wound.

“Bravo 6, do you copy?”

“Yeah,” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a sob. He clears his throat. “I’m here,” he says shakily. 

“What’s your status?”

“Uh, it sucks,” he says, tries for a laugh but it turns into a tight groan. “There were six of them. They’re dead, but they shot me in the leg. And knifed me in the stomach.”

“Okay, it’s time for you to get out of there.”

“I can’t,” he says, but even he can hear there isn’t much conviction in the words.

“Spenser, if you don’t leave now, you might not have another chance.” 

Every bone in his body is telling him to go, to get to safety. His sense of self-preservation is screaming at him to leave. He doesn’t even need to hike out. He can drag himself down the slope and there are three operational trucks _right there_. All he has to do is get himself in one and drive. 

But he can’t do it.

He knows if he leaves and the enemy gets to his team before Alpha does, he won’t be able to live with himself. 

There are things that are worse than death. 

Having that on his conscience would be one of them. He’d rather die out here, like this.

“I know,” he responds quietly. “But…I just _can’t_.”

“ _Dammit, kid_ ,” Blackburn replies, not trying to hide the heavy emotion in his voice. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” 

There’s nothing to really say to that, so he stays quiet. 

That whole dissociating thing sounds pretty good right about now. But there’s no point in him staying here if he isn’t alert, ready to fight.

Every time he feels himself start to fade, he thinks about his team, and how important it is that he be ready. He pictures Jason, slumped in that chair. And he pictures Sonny; the haunting blank stare that Clay can’t get out of his head. 

They need him to stay strong, so that’s what he’ll do.

And time drags on. 

+++++++++++++++++

Clay can’t remember a time he didn’t want to be a SEAL. It started as hero worship. A scrawny little tow-headed boy who thought his dad was Superman and wanted to be just like him. He bought Ash’s stories hook, line and sinker. Thought it made sense that a man as important as his dad – a true _hero_ – wouldn’t have the time to be around much. And that seemed like a reasonable sacrifice to make.

As he grew older, Clay realized his father’s absence didn’t mean he was Superman. It meant he was exactly what he seemed to be – an absent father. And it had nothing to do with his job. That was just an excuse. Because even when Ash was there physically, he wasn’t there emotionally. He didn’t do much to disguise the fact that he cared more about his own carefully-crafted persona than he did about his own son. 

Eventually, Clay decided he wasn’t going to care about Ash and his misguided motivations. Instead of letting the disappointing relationship dissuade him from his dream of becoming a SEAL, he used it to drive himself forward. When thoughts of quitting entered his mind during BUD/S, he steeled himself in knowing he was going to work harder than he had at anything before. Not only was he going to become a SEAL; he was going to eclipse his father, become a _better_ SEAL – and a better _man_ – than his father had ever been.

That drive became about much more than erasing his father’s footsteps. It became about fighting for his country, saving the innocent, protecting the vulnerable, standing up for what’s right – making a difference.

And what it ultimately gave him was something he didn’t even know he was looking for – a family.

It’s telling that as he’s stuck alone on the slope of a mountain in Pakistan, bleeding out, delirious with pain and desperate for rescue, he doesn’t have much of a thought to spare for his father. Instead, he craves the company and comfort of the men who are trapped in the cave next to him – his brothers. They’re all the family he needs.

Hours have gone by. He doesn’t know how many, but the sun is up. That’s not something he really remembers happening, but he knows he’s been drifting. 

He also knows he’s moved well beyond the ability to fight in defense of his brothers. All of his energy is now focused on fighting to stay alive. His vision is tunneled and blurred, his thoughts disjointed and foggy. He knows he’s lost way too much blood and he’s pretty sure he’s spiked a fever; clammy cold and burning hot at the same time. He can’t move. Even if he wanted to leave at this point, it would be impossible. 

Those back at base seem to realize that. They long ago stopped trying to convince him to leave and shifted to encouraging him. They’ve basically just been keeping him company, and he’s immeasurably thankful for it. 

“How are you doing, Clay?” That’s Mandy. 

“Mmm,” is all he can manage. 

“Alpha just got here. They’re loading up excavation equipment now and should be to you in about an hour.”

“k...” 

He doesn’t bother to tell her he doesn’t think he has another hour left in him. 

“You’re doing so well,” she says emphatically. “You just need to hang on a little longer.”

+++++++++++++++++

More time goes by. It could be five minutes or 50. He’s not able to focus enough to keep track. 

Clay has the sinking realization that he doesn’t feel the pain anymore; instead, he’s floating. It’s welcoming and terrifying all at once.

He’s always kind of assumed he’d die in the field. He figures every operator probably does on some level. But when he pictured it in his head, he imagined dying as a hero, in a blaze of glory. 

He didn’t imagine it happening like this. 

Dying alone. 

Failing to protect his brothers, who need him now more than ever. 

He’s reminded of that famous poem that’s used at the start of _The Stand_ movie, the line about the world ending not with a bang, but with a whimper. 

That’s what this feels like. A whimper.

He keys his radio, but doesn’t manage to say anything. 

“Clay?” It’s Blackburn this time.

“ _Please, Eric_ ,” he begs with the strength he has left. “I can’t… _please_ get them here.”

“They’re coming, Clay,” the man says fervently. “I promise they’ll be there soon.”

He’s not sure soon is enough. 

“Bravo 6, this is Alpha 1,” his radio comes alive minutes later. “We’re coming up on your position in three trucks from the southeast. Don’t shoot us.”

Clay clenches his eyes shut, dares to hope.

He must fade out again, because next thing he knows, he’s looking up at Full Metal and several other concerned familiar faces. 

“Hey, Spense,” the older man says affectionately, bent down over him, gripping his good shoulder. “We’re gonna get you down to the truck so Jeff can take a good look at you.” He gestures to their team medic, who is already working to put an IV in his arm. 

“Then we’re gonna go get your boys.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I'm not _quite_ ready to be done with these boys yet, so there will be another part, though it will likely be more of an epilogue than a full chapter. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has continued to stick around for the ride!

If Trent were to make a list of the absolute worst days he’s experienced in his career as a Navy SEAL, this one would, without question, claim the No. 1 spot. And he’s had some _seriously_ shitty days, so that’s a high bar to overtake.

Being the medic for Bravo team is actually a very small portion of his job. Most of his time in the field is actually quite boring - traveling, hiking, waiting. A LOT of waiting. When they do see action, it’s mostly spent banging down doors, capturing or taking out targets, rescuing hostages, strategizing and gathering intelligence. 

Trent was already a few years and a few teams into his career before ‘medic’ became part of his toolkit. And while he doesn’t need to pull that tool out very often, the Navy sure does get its money’s worth out of him. 

Bravo team has a tendency to get into trouble. Trent’s pretty sure it’s not really their fault. It’s what can be expected from an elite, tier one team that’s sent on the most dangerous, high-risk missions. 

Especially when they have a team leader who likes to bend the rules a bit. 

But that’s why they’re so effective. They aren’t careless. The opposite actually. They’re selfless, determined and committed. Every one of them would say the gains are worth the risks. 

That’s definitely how Trent feels, and he couldn’t be more proud to be Bravo 4, a part of the best team around. 

But even so, it does seem like they’ve had a string of exceptionally bad luck recently. And this is just the really rich icing on that cake. 

Most often, Trent’s medical skills are needed for someone they’re rescuing or someone they’ve captured. It’s not all that common for one of his own team members to need assistance, and even then, it’s usually fairly minor – stitching up a wound, flushing gritty eyes or wrapping a turned ankle.

Of course, there has been the occasional serious injury. That’s always scary, but Trent is good at centering himself and calmly figuring out the best course of action. 

But he’s never experienced anything like _this_ – multiple teammates down in serious condition.

For the first several hours, he’s too busy triaging and treating to really think too much about the predicament they’ve found themselves in. But there’s only so much he can do in this environment with limited supplies, and eventually he has time for the reality of their situation to sink in. 

Looking at his friends scattered in the cave around him, he starts to feel overwhelmed.

Ray is concussed, which is the least of their worries. He has a headache and is a little fuzzy, but is otherwise okay physically. Mostly, he’s beating himself up over what happened. Trent assures him none of this is his fault, but the man can’t get past the fact that he led the team into this situation. And he obviously feels guilty about Summer. But there’s nothing Trent can do right now to help him with that. 

He has more pressing concerns.

Trent’s biggest worry is for Sonny, who is still completely unresponsive. Trent’s pretty sure it’s a coping mechanism, not an injury. He can only hope they can get Sonny to a point where he feels safe enough to come back to them. Because without the kind of equipment you only find in a hospital, Trent really needs him awake to examine him properly for any serious physical injuries. He’s propped him up a few times to try to get him to drink, hoping he’ll instinctively swallow, but that hasn’t worked. He knows he needs to get more fluids in him, and he needs to do it quickly, but he doesn’t have any options.

Brock is really starting to give Sonny a run for his money on the concern scale. His breathing is labored and he’s wheezing on every inhale. Because of his prone position, Trent has no way of knowing if that’s because of the pressure the slab is putting on his chest and lungs or if something more dangerous is going on. He was clearly experiencing pretty significant pain in his leg early on, but the lines around his eyes and mouth have smoothed out and he’s quieted down. While Trent is happy to see his friend isn’t in severe pain anymore, he’s worried about what that means. He obviously has a leg injury, but Trent has no idea how bad it might be. He isn’t talking much, but that isn’t exactly unusual for Brock. All Trent can do is continue to monitor him and hope he doesn’t get worse before rescue arrives.

The one positive in all of this is Jason. Trent has no idea what drug they were giving him, but it sure wreaked havoc on his system. It still is, but fortunately the man is steadily improving. He’s still only awake for small periods at a time, but when he is, he’s clearheaded. And he’s continuing to regain his strength. He even insisted on trying to help Trent and Ray free Brock, though it zapped the energy right out of him. He’s dutifully hydrating when he’s awake, and while the tremors are still there and he obviously needs more intensive medical treatment, Trent is happy with his progress.

Remarkably, Trent himself is the most able-bodied and coherent of the bunch, which is a miracle really. He rolled his ankle pretty badly when the explosion toppled him into Jason, but he doesn’t think there are any serious breaks in there. It’s painful, but he’s able to hobble around okay.

Thinking about the explosion makes him think about Kairos. He wishes he had gotten to know him better. Aside from a few stories shared on the C-17 or over MREs, he doesn’t know much about the man’s personal life. And he wishes his last thoughts of Summer hadn’t been annoyance that he was taking too long to get the bomb off of Jason. Trent barely even looked at him in the cave, completely focused instead on his frustrated inability to render aid to Jason and Sonny until Kairos freed them. What the man did – getting the bomb away from them and doing what he could to lessen its effects – was heroic, and Trent will always be grateful for that.

Then there’s the team member who _isn’t_ here. Clay was outside when the bomb went off, and Trent doesn’t know if he was far enough away from the cave entrance to have escaped injury. He’s encouraged by the firefights they’ve heard. It’s scary to think Clay might be taking on the enemy by himself, but at least it likely means he’s alive.

And selfishly, they need Clay alive so he can report their situation back to Havoc. The more info everyone back at base has about what happened, the more quickly they can get Alpha team here. 

And Bravo desperately needs the other team to get here. The belief that they’re coming is the only thing keeping Trent’s hopes alive.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Sonny starts thrashing weakly and murmuring unintelligibly, pulling everyone out of their own thoughts. 

“Is he having a nightmare?” Ray asks.

“Maybe,” Trent says, trying to get closer to the Texan without getting kicked or hit. 

“Bravo 3, _wake up_ ,” Jason commands firmly. “That’s an order.”

Amazingly, it actually _works_. 

Sonny shoots up to a sitting position, looking startled.

His eyes dart around frantically, not staying in one place long enough to focus on anything. 

Jason grabs his jaw and directs his gaze so he’s staring right into the eyes of his team leader. 

“That’s it,” Jason says soothingly. “Just look at me. I’m alive. You’re okay. It’s over. We’re both okay. They can’t hurt us anymore.” 

“Jace?” Sonny rasps shakily, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing is real. 

Jason leans forward, rests his forehead against the younger man’s. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Sonny still looks confused, but he’s semi-alert and kind of talking. Trent will take that as a win for now. 

The Texan groans, hand wrapped around his middle and shaking with weakness as he starts to lower himself awkwardly back to the ground.

“Wait, wait,” Trent says. “Need you to drink some water. Couple sips at a time, every few minutes.”

Sonny drinks, actually tries to gulp, and Trent has to stop him from taking too much. 

Trent can’t stop looking at the man, flooded with relief that he’s awake. But he catches the grimace on the Texan’s face every time he moves.

“Sore?” Trent asks.

There’s a long pause, and the medic can tell it’s driven by confusion more than it is by debate about how to answer the question. 

Finally, Sonny simply nods.

“Yeah, looks like they worked you over pretty good. Can I check you out?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Trent examines Sonny extensively, apologizing along the way as he makes him groan or gasp in pain. He knows there are some broken ribs, thinks his cheekbone is broken and maybe an orbital socket. Probably some smaller fractures in his arms and legs; it’s hard to tell with how inflamed, stiff and painful everything is. And he’s severely dehydrated and deeply bruised. He’s going to be very uncomfortable for a good long while, but Trent doesn’t see anything that looks life threatening. 

Sonny still seems to only be half with them. He isn’t fully aware of what’s going on; hasn’t even asked about the cave or the team. Trent still doesn’t think it’s any kind of head injury or related to the dehydration. He thinks it’s more likely Sonny’s still in his own head to a degree – whatever headspace he was using to remove himself from the trauma he was experiencing. While that would normally be very alarming, Trent figures in their current predicament he’s just going to need to let it be for now, content the man is alive and at least showing some improvement.

It’s been _hours_ since they’ve heard anything from outside. Trent’s been trying to convince himself that’s a good thing. He’s pretty sure the Inventor’s men would have made it into the cave by now if they had the opportunity, but he also doesn’t know how much rubble is blocking the entrance. It’s late morning now, and he knows if everything has gone according to plan, Alpha team should be here soon. They just need to manage a little longer.

“Trent?”

The hesitant call comes from Brock. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m…I think something’s wrong,” he says softly. 

And _that_ gets Trent’s attention. 

Brock is the last one of them to complain. Which makes him a _really bad_ patient. No matter how much the rest of them chastise him for it, he tends to keep things to himself. He once had a leg wound that would have been fine with a good cleaning and some simple stitches. Instead, Brock played it off as nothing, and it ultimately got infected and grounded the whole team for a week. 

So for him to acknowledge there’s a problem – actually seek out help – that means something _serious_ is going on.

“Define wrong.” 

“Don’t feel right.”

“In what way?” Trent asks with frustration. “Come on, Brock. I need you to talk to me.” 

“Cold. Floaty. Tire…,” he fizzles out mid-word.

“Does anything hurt?” 

He doesn’t answer, closes his eyes instead, and Trent’s panic notches up a level. 

“Brock!” he yells firmly, “I need you to pay attention. Does anything hurt?”

Heavy eyes crack back open. “Not sure.”

Cerberus has spent most of his time settled at Brock’s side, offering comfort to his trapped partner by nuzzling under his arm and licking his hand and face. But now he’s up, pacing and whining, like he’s anxious.

Trent doesn’t like the change. He knows their canine teammate is perceptive, and he’s clearly bothered by his handler’s deteriorating condition.

Even in the dim lighting, it’s obvious Brock has lost the color in his face. His skin feels clammy and sweaty when Trent reaches for his pulse, which has significantly weakened.

Trent’s gut clenches. If he had to bet, he’d say Brock is losing blood. He tries to reach under the man to feel his belly and chest, but everything is compressed too tightly, and he can’t manage to wiggle his hand under Brock’s vest. 

“Dammit!” he huffs in frustration, fumbling for the one bag of blood he has in his med kit. He quickly gets it set up, squeezing the pouch desperately, trying to get it into his friend faster. 

But he knows it isn’t going to be enough. 

He wishes they could do a direct transfusion, but none of them are Brock's blood type. And the only one of them who is a universal donor, with O negative...is Clay.

As a medic, there’s nothing worse than watching a patient go downhill and not being able to do anything to help. When it’s a dear friend – a brother like Brock – it’s _heart wrenching_.

“What can we do?” Ray asks with concern. 

Trent shakes his head. “His blood pressure’s in the tank. I think he’s bleeding. Either internally somewhere or from his leg. I don’t know. He’s not getting enough air.”

Trent knows that if Brock stops breathing, or if his heart gives out, there’s nothing he’ll be able to do. Face down as he is, the man is stuck in the absolute _worst_ possible position for resuscitation. It can't be done.

A vision flashes before his eyes of Brock, dead, still pinned under the slab of mountain while the rest of them are forced to continue to sit trapped with him – with his body. 

It’s unbearable.

“We have to get him out of here,” he says desperately to Ray and Jason, who has picked up on the tension in the air and moved to settle by Brock’s head. “Alpha needs to get here _now_. I don’t think he has long.”

He sees that Brock has drifted again. With all the pressure being placed on his chest, Trent’s afraid that if he falls asleep, his lungs will simply stop trying to pull breath in. 

“Hey!” he yells, lightly smacking his friend’s face and noticing his lips have developed a tinge of purple. “Keep your eyes open.” 

“Tired,” Brock whispers, lids fluttering. 

“I know, but you need to stay awake for now, okay?” 

“Just for a little-“

“No,” Trent interrupts forcefully, deciding to be brutally honest. “Brock, listen to me. I know it’s hard, but you have to stay awake. If you fall asleep, I don’t think you’re gonna wake up. Do you understand?” 

His eyes stay open and he blinks sluggishly, but he doesn’t answer.

Trent tries again. “I need you to tell me you understand.”

Brock nods, trying to hitch in a large gasp of air.

“Focus on every breath, okay? Every single one. One at a time.”

“Hey, Brock,” Jason cuts in gently, pulling the man’s attention by carding his hand through his curls. 

“Boss,” Brock gasps out softly.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” Jason sounds choked up. 

“Nowhere…I’d rather be.”

Trent’s throat lumps and he has to turn away. 

He can’t do this. He can’t just sit by as his best friend suffocates or bleeds to death. He’s _never_ felt more helpless.

Jason starts to literally count each breath with Brock, so Trent distracts himself by examining Ray again, happy to see he’s still stable. Then he wakes Sonny up to drink some more water. If he can’t help Brock, he’ll spend his time doing everything he can to help the rest of the team.

“Shhh. Do you hear that?” Ray asks. 

Everyone goes quiet, and sure enough, there’s a scrabbling noise coming from the collapsed pile of rocks at the cave entrance. Cerberus starts barking, trying to climb the mound. 

“Cerberus, _no!_ ” Trent chastises. He desperately wants this to be Alpha team, but he knows there’s a chance it could be the enemy, and he doesn't want to broadcast that they're here. 

Ray clearly has the same thought. He has already grabbed his firearm and brings Trent his, and they set their sights on the area the sound is coming from. 

It takes forever, but finally, a small beam of natural light makes its way inside. 

“This is Alpha 1. Don’t shoot. Can anyone hear me?” 

Trent has never been happier to hear a voice in his life than he is to hear Scott outside the cave. 

Ray lowers his weapon and hurries to the small hole, reporting that they’re all alive inside but that they need medical attention. 

Trent interrupts, “Do you have blood? Brock needs blood. And oxygen. _Now._ He can’t wait for you to get us out of here.” 

Within a few minutes, they’ve expanded the hole large enough to pass through two blood bags and a small canister of oxygen. 

Trent gets to work on Brock, swapping out the new pint and wrapping the nasal cannula around his head. He can see how hard Brock is trying to stay awake, but it’s a losing battle. 

“Just a little longer, Brock,” he tries to encourage. “Alpha’s here, and we’ll be heading home before you know it.”

Brock doesn’t respond, eyes finally falling shut. 

“ _Please, hurry_ ,” Trent calls.

It takes longer than Trent would like, but finally, Alpha team makes their way into the cave. While they work to bring in some equipment to try to free Brock, Trent turns to Full Metal.

“Clay?” he asks cautiously, dreading the answer.

“We’ve got him. He’s alive, but in pretty bad shape. Jeff’s working on him in the truck.” 

The Alpha leader pauses before continuing, “That kid fought like _hell_ for you guys. There are a lot of bodies out there.” 

Trent drops his head with a huff. “The little shit,” he responds solemnly. “He should have left.” 

“Come on. Does it surprise you?”

It doesn’t. Trent knows any one of them would have done the same if their roles had been reversed. There’s just something about Spenser though. Trent still sees him as their kid, young and baby faced. He has to remind himself that Clay is a warrior just like the rest of them. Of _course_ he stayed to protect his team. It’s what any of them would have done.

“You ever decide you don’t want him,” Scott continues, “I’ll take him in a heartbeat.”

“Not a chance,” Trent responds affectionately. “He’s ours.”

Brock is completely unconscious and limp by the time they’re able to free him from the slab that has kept him pinned all this time. His leg doesn’t look as bad as Trent expected. It’s obviously broken, and there’s probably some muscle damage at the very least, but there’s a weak pulse in his ankle and that gives Trent hope that he’ll be able to keep the leg. 

But it also means his bleeding is internal, and it doesn’t take long to find it. Trent cuts Brock’s vest off to discover his belly is firm and rigid. He knows they need to get him to a real medical team urgently. 

The bright light of the sun hurts his eyes as he helps transport the litter carrying Brock outside. Before they reach the truck, he turns back to Scott. 

“Summer?”

“We’ll get him,” Full Metal replies. “Would never leave him behind.” 

Trent nods and looks back at the cave with regret before climbing into the back of the medical pickup that they’re loading Brock into. Clay is already there, covered in blood and ashen, with his eyes closed. Trent nods his head to Jeff, silently thanking him for taking care of the younger man. Alpha’s medic gives him a quick rundown of Clay’s condition, and Trent is stunned that he’s even alive. He really did fight like hell. 

A ruckus behind the vehicle grabs his attention. A couple members of Alpha are working to contain Cerberus, who’s weaving and dodging, trying as hard as he can to jump in the truck. He even lets out a menacing growl.

“You’re not gonna be able to stop him,” Trent says with amusement. “Just let him up.”

The dog hops into the truck bed and settles himself carefully in between the two injured Bravo members. He’s very interested in Clay, sniffing him all over before giving his cheek a big lick.

Clay wakes up with a groan, and it takes a minute for his eyes to recognize Trent, but the medic can see when it registers. The younger man heaves a half breath, half sob, and his eyes shift to Brock before his face falls. 

“He’s alive,” Trent assures, grabbing Clay's hand. “Touch and go and gonna need a lot of help, but he’s alive. We all are.”

Tears leak out of Clay’s eyes as he clenches them tight. “I thought you were all dead,” he rasps out. “That I was the only one left.”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily,” Trent says with a watery smile. “Thanks, kid. For staying. You probably saved our lives.” 

Clay offers a sad smile back, closes his eyes and drifts off again. 

As a field medic, Trent’s job is to keep the people under his care alive long enough to get them to proper medical treatment. And that’s what he and Jeff spend the next hour working to do.

The driver lets them know when they’ve passed out of Pakistan, and Trent finally allows a bit of relief to creep in. 

Today was a pretty awful day. The whole mission was, really. 

Brock and Clay are still in critical condition and are going to need a lot of help. And Sonny is going to need help of a completely different sort. They’ll all need to process and mourn the loss of Summer, who died for _them_ – protecting _them_. 

But all of that will come later. 

In this moment, against the odds, the five men Trent cares about most in the world are on these trucks. And they’re all _alive_. 

In the grand scheme of things, maybe that means it wasn’t that bad of a day after all.


	8. Chapter 8

As he settles into his seat on the plane with a heavy sigh, Eric feels like he’s aged 20 years in the last four days. 

He knows it’s going to take a lot of time to process and move beyond the nightmare that this mission became.

Once Alpha team got to the men of Bravo, Eric was technically no longer needed at their temporary base. At that point, it was solely an Alpha op; a rescue and recovery mission. Because the Bravo mission had failed in a spectacularly horrific way.

So Eric traveled with the medevac chopper that was dispatched to meet the trucks delivering his injured men to safety. As they pulled up, Trent and the Alpha medic were entirely focused on Brock and Clay, who were both bloody, pale and unconscious. The two men were quickly whisked away by the medics on the helicopters, leaving Trent looking shell shocked and lost. There was no time to waste, so Eric gave him a reassuring nod and a pat on the arm and they jumped into the truck with Jeff and a _very_ unhappy Cerberus to quickly continue to base.

It wasn’t until they were back that he was able to see Jason, Ray and Sonny. Trent was immediately at Sonny’s side, declaring that he and Jason also needed to be sent to the hospital. Ultimately, Eric made them all go so they could be fully evaluated. 

The relief at seeing all six men alive, even if some of them were barely hanging on, was more overwhelming than he could have imagined.

But then he had to turn his attention to the one man who didn’t come back alive, working with the support team and command to make arrangements for Kairos’ remains to be taken back to the states. It was emotionally heavy work, but a part of his job, and Eric handled it with care and attention to detail. 

Technically, he should have returned Cerberus to his kennel, but keeping the anxious dog with him seemed to calm the canine. And Eric drew just as much comfort from their four-legged teammate.

Clay and Brock both immediately underwent emergency surgery at the local hospital, and while they were both still in serious condition, they were deemed stable enough to be sent back to the states, where they would need more extensive surgeries to fix the damage done to their legs.

It’s unusual, but Eric was able to convince command to let the entire team take a med flight back to Virginia Beach together. 

As he sits on the plane now, watching as the team is loaded up, he knows pushing for the flight was the right call. These men _need_ each other right now; it’s the best medicine they could have to start healing, physically _and_ emotionally. Besides, they’re all hurt in some way, so it isn’t that much of a stretch. His biggest hurdle was actually getting permission for Cerberus to come along, but Eric was able to convince his superiors that the dog is part of the team and will have a calming effect on the injured and traumatized men. 

Brock and Clay are heavily sedated for the flight; Sonny a bit less so. The others are left to watch over their injured teammates. It’s the first time they’ve really had a chance to take a breath since the rescue. 

“They’re so young,” Jason says sadly, looking at his unconscious friends. “It’s not right.”

Eric can’t argue. Clay and Brock in particular often call to mind his own college days. He has to remind himself they aren’t kids fresh out of high school. It’s somehow more upsetting that it was the team’s two youngest members who were the most severely injured. They have their whole lives – and careers – ahead of them. 

“No, it’s not right,” Trent says. “But age is on their side. You heal faster when you’re young, and they’re both healthy and strong.”

“I’d bet on them any day,” Ray adds. “They’ve made it this far. They can come back from this.”

“They certainly went through hell,” Eric says. “You all did. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bravo team, it’s to _always_ bet on you. Each and every one of you.”

It’s true. It always amazes Eric what these men are capable of. 

In fact, it can be hard to remember they aren’t superheroes. This team faces incredible odds every time they go out there, and they’ve survived some unimaginable situations. It’s easy to be lulled into a false sense of security; to think they can manage anything.

But they’re flesh and blood and bone and _human_ just like everyone else. And that makes them vulnerable; not invincible.

Life is so fragile.

Eric’s not sure he’s ever felt more helpless than he did near the end, when Clay was begging him for help, for him to get Alpha there quickly. It’s the only time he can ever remember the younger man addressing him by his first name, and it made tears unexpectedly well in his eyes, the despair and trauma of the whole ordeal finally coming to a head. At the time, they had no idea what the status was of the men in the cave, they’d already lost Kairos, and Eric knew Clay was out of time. 

He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone else in the room, but he was sure Spenser was going to die. That he’d eventually just stop replying and everyone at Havoc would be left to wait for Alpha to arrive at his location to confirm the inevitable.

As hard as he tries, Eric doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget a single minute of the hours he spent with Clay after the cave in. Trying to convince him to leave, but knowing he wouldn’t. Listening to his decline and desperately wishing he could reach through the radio to help him. To _comfort_ him. 

As a rule, Eric purposely tries to keep an emotional distance from the men under his charge. He knows it’s imperative that his relationships with them not cloud his ability to do his job. He has to make the right decision every time, regardless of who he’s sending into what kind of situation.

So throughout his career, he’s kept a barrier up. 

But the men of Bravo are just something else. His depth of caring for them is immense. And no matter how much he tries to maintain that distance, he just keeps getting pulled closer and closer.

He fears he may reach a point where he’ll need to ask for a transfer so he can step away, but he isn’t there yet.

“They’re gonna pay for this,” Jason pulls him from his thoughts as they watch a doctor check Brock’s vitals. “The Inventor, everyone in his network. They’re gonna wish they hadn’t messed with us.” 

“Alpha team has been reassigned to go after the Inventor,” Eric assures. “Mandy has a few leads.”

Jason looks at him skeptically. 

“It wasn’t her fault,” Eric stresses. “The intel really did look as good as we could have hoped for.” He pauses. “You know she wouldn’t knowingly send you into something like that with bad intel.”

Jason nods resignedly, rubbing his thigh as he watches the doctor move on to Clay. 

“Right now, you all need to focus on healing and getting better,” Eric says. “Then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

 

***9 Months Later***

It feels like the first day of school, full of nervous anticipation and excitement. 

For the first time in nine months, Bravo team will be together again. Sure, they’ve been spending time together away from work, but as of this morning, they’re officially back. 

Eric is amazed that they made it to this point, but he’s learned not to doubt what they’re capable of. It’s been a long, rough road, but against incredible odds, all six men have finally been cleared for duty. 

Jason and Trent healed up quickly and spent their time running with other teams. They were even part of the multi-team raid that finally took down the Inventor. 

Ray did some teaching with Green Team and spent some long overdue alone time with his family. 

Brock and Clay had the toughest experience, both facing significant setbacks along the way. But being in the same boat together helped. They were even roommates for their in-patient rehab. Afraid they were actually going to hurt themselves, Trent had to remind them that healing isn’t a competition, and they didn’t need to try to outdo each other.

The haunted look is mostly gone from Sonny’s eyes now, only the occasional far-off gaze setting in when things get a bit too quiet and he’s had too much to drink. But his friends are always there to set him right. It was tough going at first, and Eric is grateful that Sonny willingly saw a therapist. He seemed to realize this was something he couldn’t power through on his own. 

And Cerberus has been a big help. Sonny took the dog in while Brock was in the hospital and rehab, and having him around was like having a therapy animal – a non-judgmental ear to talk to. Eric’s pretty sure Sonny also helped ease the dog’s separation anxiety along the way. Sonny is living with Clay now, not quite ready to be on his own, and it’s an arrangement that’s working well. Though Eric is afraid of what trouble they’ll get up to together. 

Eric has a whole new respect for Sonny. As part of the raid on the Inventor’s network, a cache of digital files was found. There are videos from the time Jason and Sonny were in the cave with the bomb. Eric watched them in their entirety once, and he hasn’t been able to watch them again. To this point, they haven’t shown up online anywhere, and their cyber team is carefully monitoring for their electronic signatures in case they pop up.

Eric immediately brought Jason and Sonny in to tell them. At this point, neither man has opted to watch the videos, but he suspects at least Jason will want to eventually. 

But for now, they have a job to get back to, and Eric relishes the normalcy of it all as the members of Bravo team start to arrive in the briefing room. 

They greet each other with hugs and their typical ribbing. Trent makes fun of Sonny’s haircut, Ray recounts a Green Team story for Brock and Clay, and Jason plays tug of war with Cerberus. Bets are already being made on what kind of mission this is gonna be. 

Eric just takes it all in. After all they went through, it’s hard to believe they actually want to go back out there – put themselves in danger again. It definitely takes a certain breed of person to be a tier one operator, and Eric knows these men were made for it, would be lost if they couldn’t do the job - if they didn’t have each other.

Eric has his own fears and doubts. He thinks of losing them, of the horror that comes with not knowing if they’re okay when something goes wrong. 

Knowing that any time he sends them out there, he could be sending them to their deaths. 

That’s something he knows he’s going to struggle with for a long time, if not forever. 

But as long as these six men – the bravest men he knows – can overcome what they went through to get back out there, Eric will be here. And he’ll encourage and support them in any way he can. It’s the least he can do. 

“Okay, settle down,” he says with exaggerated exasperation. “Let’s get to it.” 

He turns to Jason. “Master Chief Hayes, would you like to start us off?”

“We’re back,” Jason says with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck around for this ride. And especially, thank you to everyone who has left feedback along the way. When I started writing a few months ago, I had no idea how much I would value that feedback. It's a small but mighty fandom here, and you guys are awesome. 
> 
> I'm not planning any more long chapter fics at the moment (this was stressful!), but I hope to do some one-shots, so if anyone has prompts, please drop them in the comments!


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